


What Do You Mean, This Wasn't The First Time?

by Hawkbringer



Category: Ratatouille (2007)
Genre: Bad French Accent, Coitus Interruptus, F/M, Femdom, Humor, Loud Sex, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Remy's hilarious tragic circumstances, Voyeurism, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 06:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18176954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: While getting frisky in the kitchen, Linguini forgets to put Remy outside before things get too heated and the poor rat gets an eyeful he never wanted... yet again. (Disney Kink Meme fill, written 2010.)





	What Do You Mean, This Wasn't The First Time?

**Author's Note:**

> I figured, they're French, so passionate stripping and cowgirl position aren't too far out of the question. I did not include vegetable oil or face-sitting like I wanted to, though... be grateful for that.

Not again. Oh, hell, no, not _again_...

Remy smacked himself in the head, refusing to watch as Collete sauntered back towards his transfixed human, one finger to her lips and the other hand sliding open the buttons on her shirt. He pressed one paw over his eyes, but it's not the first time they've done this and the sounds were so familiar... that's the woman's shirt hitting the floor, there go her shoes, sounds like her panties fell into the soaking sink that time... but she wasn't averse to motorbiking home without them.

The restaurant's unsung hero dug his tiny paws into Linguini's hair as the male's mate and mentor pressed two slender hands to his chest and pushed him down onto the counter. The redhead enthusiastically scootched back and ran reverent hands over her unclothed hips as she climbed up onto his legs and undid his pants. 

Close to sobbing in distress, the small rodent grasped a few strands of hair as a pawhold and slammed his head repeatedly into Linguini's scalp. 

Remy could feel quite distinctly the exact moment his human slid inside - every hair stood on end all over his scalp. The wild moans of passion weren't doing anything for Remy's comfort, either. Well, French humans were famous for their passion, no? He just groaned inaudibly, screwed his eyes shut and prayed that some kind of divine inspiration would hit him and inform him how to discomfort and disturb the copulating humans as much as they were disturbing _him._

Despite their regrettably awful sexual timing, the pair still needed Remy around to keep Gusto's battered reputation afloat, so skittering out from under Linguini's toque for shock value was out of the question. He was always around, they needed him, they couldn't know he was there...

Remy got his wish. A fry-oil-filled lamp clicked on above his head. Linguini, much as he'd like to forget, was under the same contract as the rodent himself. 

On a whim, he skittered up to the crown of the ginger's head, located the rather battered strands of hair that connected magically to the human's legs, and yanked them. Unable to see from his current angle, Remy waited till the human's center of balance shifted enough to inform him that he had succeeded in pulling Linguini into a perfect corpse pose - both legs sticking straight out over the floor. 

Rubbing his paws together in glee, the fastidious rodent pondered how to best upset the pair's steady rhythm. He slowly pulled the ginger's legs apart into nearly a perfect split, feeling the tendons groan and joints pop in protest. Pressing that small part down with his back feet, Remy pulled up once more on the strands to Linguini's arms, aiming based on the indignant sounds Collete made as Linguini's arm came up involuntarily and slapped her arm, her hip, her breast. That last one caused such a shriek of violated pride that Remy practically fell over laughing. 

"In all honesty, you had better tell me why you're doing zat, Linguini. I could understand if you have the Tourrette's or something like zis, but if you do not, I go home, you do not come tonight, clear?"

"Yes, yes, very clear, we are so clear," Linguini stuttered out past lips gone pale in fright. How could he have known the rat would take his revenge so craftiliy? "I- I just don't know-know what came over me..."

"Hmpf!" Collete scoffed haughtily, clearly unimpressed. "It had better not happen again."

"It. Won't," Linguini assured her through gritted teeth, one hand coming up to rub the back of his head self-consciously - and simultaneously attempt to unseat his very unwelcome interloper. Remy spied the finger approaching behind him and bit it soundly in reprimand. "Ow," he informed the air. 

"These strange pains zat happen to you without reason," Collete continued, shrewdly sliding off Linguini's dick, much to his displeasure. "Do zey have anything to do with ze... involuntary... movements?" 

"In, in... in a way... I suppose," Linguini puttered, face still ashen. 

"Do you want to keep having ze sex... or not?" she asked pointedly, hands on her hips.

"I... I think that's enough, for, for one day... heh. I-I mean, we did take that break at... at lunch..." Remy rolled his eyes. He knew. He was there.

"Ohh!" Collete's jaw dropped, pride deeply wounded, and she spun around immediately and began picking her clothes up off the assorted cutlery. 

"I, I, uh..." Linguini reached out a hand to stop her, but that was as far as Remy let him get. He pulled sharply on his hair to reign his hand in, then impulsively tugged a few more strands with his feet and was rewarded with the immediate and complete softening of his human's cock. He pulled at it a few more times to remind himself of that bundle's placement. He'd probably need it again.

"You are lucky," Collete informed him sharply, without looking at his face, "zat we had already mopped ze floor! Clean up zis mess. And bring my panties back, clean, tomorrow!" The door slammed behind her as she exited. Remy understood the impulse to go commando, but seriously, that woman took the practice to new, kinky (and nauseating) heights.

Linguini sat up on the counter, pulled his toque off and threw it across the room. He sank his head into his hands, rubbing furiously at prickling eyes. He heaved a sigh and held one hand up in penance to the cock-blocking rat on his head. Remy shoved it away and scampered down his other arm to the counter. When Linguini looked his way, Remy folded his tiny arms and tapped his foot, every inch the furiously impatient (or was that impotent?) Jiminy Cricket.

The ginger giggled weakly and rubbed his eyes again. "I, uh, I bet we kinda scared you there, Little Chef, huh?" 

Remy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. 

"I, I just can't believe you didn't just, I dunno, run away or somethin'. You _stayed._ " 

Remy raised his little rat eyebrows, patiently waiting for the apology. 

"Heh. You must, you must care a whole lot about cooking in order to, to put up with _that._ I wouldn't put up with that, if I was you, you know?" 

Remy shook his head. He didn't know, after all. 

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't... Well... I guess, we just... uhh... move on, right? She'll be back, right? She _works_ here. She'll come back." 

Remy nodded emphatically. Anything to get the human back on track. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I can, huhhhh, fix it tomorrow or something." 

He turned his head suddenly towards the very preceptive little rodent sharing his countertop. 

"That was uncalled for, though, Little Chef. You coulda, coulda, like, made me almost take off my toque before... all that happened, then I'd remember to let you outside and we both would be less embarrassed. How does that sound, Little Chef? You warn me ahead of time and this won't happen again, okay?" 

Remy cocked his head at the lanky human, then nodded decisively. 

"Oh, good," Linguini breathed, immensely relieved. He held out his hand again and Remy scampered right into his palm and curled there sleepily. He could now finally get his peace for the night.

_*_*_

Later, curled up on the arm of Linguini's couch, the human asked him sleepily if tonight was the first time he'd been forgotten in the 'heat' of the moment.

Remy shook his head, limped sleepily over to Linguini's nearest hand and nipped at it five times.

The human instantly shot up from drowsiness. "FIVE??!" 

In the mortified silence that followed, Linguini swore he could hear the little son of a bitch squeaking with laughter.


End file.
